I don't expect it to be that difficult to fall asleep the night before you go out on a date with someone, but when you've almost just kissed the one person in the entire world that you've always resented, your mind tends to keep you up, I've noticed.

I didn't even mean for it to get that far. All I wanted was some help on how to respond to Sasha whenever she would say something bold to me since I'm so used to just freezing up. But then Aspen's touch felt so tender and soft, even after all we've been through, and I couldn't take myself out of the moment for even a second.

I get ready for my classes in a daze, completely overtaken by the fact that I almost kissed Aspen Greenwood, and even more torn up over the idea that I might've even enjoyed it if I had. I've never gotten the appeal of acting or why someone would ever want to put themselves out there like that, but after acting out a scene like that with Aspen, part of me understands a bit better. Who doesn't like the idea of someone being into them? Even if just for a few fake minutes.

I walk to my first class with my giant headphones on since my AirPods are charging at the dorm, and I try my best to get through the day without thinking of Aspen. It mostly works until I get back to our room hours later to start getting ready for my date with Sasha, and she's sitting on her bed doing homework.

"Oh, hey," I say, although I wish I wouldn't have. All it does is make Aspen look up at me in awkward confusion. I don't know if she's thinking the same thing I'm thinking, but I hope she's not.

"Hey," she says quickly, getting back to her homework.

I take the hint and start rummaging through my dresser, raking through piles of clothes that just don't seem right. It takes me a while but I finally end up finding my favorite autumn top—a light blue, long-sleeved ribbed top with a square neckline. It's not exactly fall weather yet, not until it feels cold enough to wear long sleeves, but since it'll be nighttime during our date, I think it'll be cool enough that I won't be miserable wearing it. I pair it with some simple straight-leg jeans and a classic pair of chunky white sneakers and when I look in the mirror, I realize this is the trendiest outfit I think I've ever worn, which now, I realize, makes the bar sound outstandingly low.

I scour my desk drawer to find the dainty silver necklace that I always wear for special occasions. There's nothing particularly special about it, though; it's just a silver chain and a tiny, silver 'C' attached to it, but my parents spent hundreds of dollars on it for my seventeenth birthday so I feel obligated to wear it every now and then.

I head to the bathroom to focus on my hair and makeup, where I completely blank on what I should do. My hair is a given—I'm just going to curl it so that it has some definition. My makeup, however, is giving me a headache to figure out. Should I go more cutesy or more sexy? Does it matter?

I scroll Pinterest on my phone for a few minutes until I get frustrated and just decide to do my everyday makeup with a twist. I add mascara and concealer and lipgloss as usual, but this time I draw subtle, smoky brown wings onto my eyes as a sort of eyeliner. It gives them more of a pop and makes me look a bit more mature and by the time I finish getting ready, I feel the prettiest I've felt in a long time.

When I get back to my room, I have about half an hour before Sasha is supposed to pick me up. She texts that she's excited and I can feel anxiety prick my skin as the time nears closer and closer. There's a gust of nerves that washes over me when she texts that she's on her way and I try to keep my composure but I can feel Aspen's worried eyes on my back.

"You sure you're ready to—"

"I'll be fine," I tell her. Every time I look at her, I'm reminded of last night, and it's too exhausting to think about that right now. Would I even be feeling like this if it happened with anyone else? Would I be this crazy about it if it were Norah or Opal who helped me, or is it simply the fact that it was Aspen?

A few more minutes pass by and it feels like only seconds when there's a knock at the front door of our dorm. Norah yells out from her room that Sasha's here, using the most obnoxiously flirty voice that makes my skin continue to crawl in fear. But when I open the door to Sasha's smiling face, something about her aura calms me down just the slightest.

Her long, stark red hair is half up with thin pieces falling in front of her face, and her eyes are lit up with excitement. She has on a long patterned skirt with a slit in the side, paired with a black tube top and a black, faux leather jacket. Her white ankle socks go perfectly with her black platform low-tops and it's clear that she knows how to style herself.

"Hey, gorgeous," she says with a grin. "You ready?"

"Yeah!" I accept even though it doesn't feel like the whole truth. Nonetheless, I shut the door and lock it behind me, stuffing my keys in my pocket as we start walking together.

"You look amazing," Sasha tells me, nudging my arm. She's only a couple of inches shorter than me but her confidence makes up for that.

"Thank you," I say, suddenly remembering Aspen's flirting advice. "You don't look too bad yourself."

She shrugs. "I was aiming for phenomenal, but that works too."

I laugh her off, because I really hope she's just joking and that I didn't just offend her, and she smiles warmly at me.

"I'm glad you asked me out," I tell her as we approach her car. It's a cherry red Nissan with dark feminine decor scattered around inside. It's very fitting, considering Sasha is filled with dark feminine energy.

"Yeah? I'm glad," she says, opening me door for me. "I was worried you were one of those girls who are only interested in other girls when they're drunk."

She shuts the door and greets me on the driver's side. I shake my head in response. "I mean, I was pretty sure I was straight up until I met you at that party, so..."

"No way. Really?"

I nod, my cheeks feeling warm. Why does my body's first reaction always have to be blushing?

"I made you question your sexuality without even touching you?" Sasha asks. Her question makes me squirm in my seat a little. "That's a new record for me."

Her wording throws me off. The way she says it's a record for her as if I'm a trophy to be won or a challenge to be tackled. It comes out weird and I almost want to take it as a red flag but I'm just hoping she misspoke and doesn't actually think that way. Maybe she's just as nervous as I am and doesn't know all of the right things to say in the moment.

I put my seatbelt on and Sasha asks me what I like to listen to as she scrolls on her phone to find the right playlist. I tell her I like everything, which I know doesn't help but it's true. She smiles and starts playing a mix of pop and R&B as she pulls her own seatbelt on and starts to reverse out of her parking spot.

We drive for a few minutes, exchanging basic small talk and a few other words, until we make it to a nearby restaurant. It's nice but not over the top, and I can tell just by the look on the outside that its specialty is Italian food. Sasha opens the car door for me yet again and helps me out by taking my hand. I smile at her and she smiles at me and I start to wonder if it really is possible to melt when looking at someone so beautiful.

She takes my hand and leads me to the front doors where she doesn't even think about letting go. I know I'm new to this whole dating girls thing but I always thought it would be scarier to be affectionate like this in public, even if all we're doing is holding hands. But I guess Sasha isn't the type of person to care much about what other people think. Maybe that's what makes her good for me; maybe she could break me out of my shell a little.

As soon as we walk inside, the hostess behind the desks gives Sasha a wide smile and welcomes us in. Sasha explains that we have a table for two and the other girl directs us right to our seats. The table is in the corner of the restaurant, mostly out of sight from the other tables, minus a few on either side. It's hidden away—intimate. I love and hate it at the same time.

"I hope this is all okay," Sasha tells me and I smile through the anxiety building up under my skin.

"It's great," I tell her, saving myself by burying my face in the menu. I take a glance at the cocktails knowing I can't try one until Sasha asks if I want one.

"Oh, I'm not twenty-one," I tell her.

She smirks. "That's not what I asked."

I feel the confusion build in my expression but instead of asking her to expand, I just shake my head with a confident smile. "Water is fine for me."

"Have you been here before?" Sasha asks. I shake my head.

"This is my first time," I tell her. "I'm from Vermont, so all of this is kind of new to me."

"Really? That's kind of hot."

"Vermont?" My question comes out in a breathy chuckle but she nods, completely serious.

"Hell yeah. The mysterious new girl from all the way across the country? There's gotta be a story there."

"I wouldn't exactly call myself mysterious."

"Everyone is mysterious in one way or another," she says, raising her eyebrow. She doesn't even bother looking at the menu before our waiter arrives—she seems to know exactly what she wants. Even and especially beyond her choice of dinner.

"Hi ladies!" says our waiter, Vincent. Something about the inflection of his voice and the giant rainbow pin on his apron leads me to believe he's not straight, but I could totally be off.

"Hey, Vinny," Sasha greets him warmly with a nickname. I guess she must be a regular around here.

"Sasha, good to see you again," he says with a grin. "What can I get started for you two?"

"I'll have the spaghetti and meatballs with a side salad please," Sasha says first. When both of them look at me, I panic.

"Um, the shrimp alfredo!" I spit out on accident. Vincent writes it down and my brain starts to freak out when I realize I just ordered something I can't even eat.

"And for drinks?"

"We'll just stick with—"

"I'm so sorry," I interrupt, feeling horrible for cutting Sasha off. "Sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt. I just, um, I don't know why I ordered that; I don't even eat meat."

"Oh, no problem," Vincent waves me off with a kind smile. "Did you just want some regular fettuccine?"

I nod, hoping I can't make any more mistakes if my mouth is shut.

"Perfect. And waters for both of you?"

Sasha confirms our order and then Vincent leaves to go do whatever waiters do after taking orders. I've never worked in the server business; I have no clue. I've never worked in general. Maybe I would have much better social skills if I had, though.

"You doing okay?" Sasha asks me. I finally make eye contact with her after distracting myself for the last ten minutes.

I want to tell her that I'm fine and that nothing's wrong but I think it's better to just be honest with her. "Yeah, sorry. I'm okay, I'm just really nervous, I guess."

"Is this your first time on a date with a girl?" she asks. I'm embarrassed to tell her my answer.

"This is my first time on a date with anyone."

She nods with a thoughtful grin. "It's okay. If it helps, I think you're doing a great job."

"Really?"

"Oh, yeah. You spoke up when you ordered the wrong food—that's admirable on its own."

I chuckle. "Well, I never would've forgiven myself if I ate shrimp."

After a moment of soft quiet, Sasha says, "I had plans for us to go to that fall carnival a few blocks away, but if it's too overwhelming, we can just head back after this?"

Half of me is relieved that she can tell I'm not feeling perfectly comfortable but the other half of me doesn't want the night to end after just a nice meal. I search for other options that don't dismiss my anxiety until I land on one that makes me happy.

"What if we just watch a movie or something?" I ask instead.

Sasha smiles. "Sounds perfect. We can just watch something at my apartment if you're okay with that."

I nod with a relieved smile. "Yeah, that sounds great."

After about an hour of eating and talking, Sasha pays for both of our meals, despite me offering to pay instead, and we start heading to her apartment. Once we get inside, I realize that she's got to have at least some money because this is no ordinary college student's apartment.

The kitchen is full-sized with modern white counters and fancy black countertops, decorated with countless plants and aesthetically pleasing kitchenware. The floors are a dark hardwood and her TV is massive. The apartment itself is a decent size as well—not ridiculously tiny but not too big that you don't even know what to do with it.

She shows me around, revealing that it's just a one-bedroom, one-bathroom apartment, which is not an easy feat as a full-time student, single-income household. So either Sasha is much older than I thought she was or her family is rich and generous—coming from someone in a family that is both well off and the complete opposite of generous.

"It's so nice," I tell her genuinely. She chuckles as she sets our leftovers in her fancy black fridge. She takes a seat on the living room couch and pats the spot next to her.

"Thanks," she says. "I only pay for about a third of it. Campus barista doesn't exactly bring in the most money."

I nod, taking a seat next to her, our legs nearly touching. She scrolls through Netflix on her TV, asking me what I want to watch but I couldn't care less. This soft, causal vibe is much better than a loud and busy carnival—she could play the worst movie in the world and I'd still enjoy it more.

She selects some classic 90's movie and leans back so I take the opportunity to show my gratitude while the opening scenes play.

"Thank you for being so understanding," I tell her. I feel my eyes widen in sincerity and I hope I'm not coming off as some shy nerd.

"Oh, of course," she says. "My brother has a severe anxiety disorder so I've grown up learning a thing or two about how to help out however I can."

"I've just," I pause between my words, taking a moment to realize how close we are. It's almost exactly like Aspen described—such close proximity with our eyes on nothing but each other. Her eyes dart between my eyes and lips and I can't help but do the same to her. "I've never had someone be so sweet to me before," I try to finish my sentence.

Instead of responding, she leans her head closer to mine. There's hardly any time for me to think about anything but she still asks, "Is it okay if I kiss you?"

I smile until I remember one pathetic fact. "I haven't kissed anyone since middle school," I admit, though I could've just said yes and left that out completely. "I don't think I even remember how," I go on, though I should really just stop talking.

But Sasha doesn't tease me or laugh or any of that. She just keeps her eyes glued to my lips with a hungry grin. "Let me be a refresher then."

Her words draw me in deeper than they ever have and before I know it, our lips connect. Her lips are soft on mine and as she reaches up to grab my face, I snake my hand up to her arm, just like I did with Aspen. Except now, we're actually kissing and it's not some weird mistake that almost happened but didn't. Now, it's all real and it's happening with Sasha.

We kiss for a while and it all feels so natural. I don't think I've ever been a good kisser, necessarily—I mean, how would I even know?—but with Sasha, I feel like a professional. She caresses my skin softly and pulls me closer and we get lost in the moment for a while. But before things can go any further, I pull away. It's mostly because I want to watch the movie that I've now missed a few minutes of, but also because I'm terrified to do anything more with Sasha knowing how inexperienced I am.

"You sure you haven't kissed anyone since middle school?" Sasha flatters me and I offer a timid chuckle.

"I guess you jogged my memory pretty well."

The rest of the night moves a little too quickly until it's time for Sasha to drive me back to my dorm. As soon as we get there, she opens the door for me and kisses my cheek, sending me off on a good note—the best note, even. I walk all the way back to my room with a smile on my face until I open my bedroom door to find Aspen gone. Who am I supposed to talk about my date with now?